My Love Break

by Antonia, Anna

  Damian shook his head. “That won’t do, Risa. I do not want you spending one cent. I will take care of everything.” He narrowed his gaze and warned, “I won’t be pleased with you if you choose to disregard my wishes.”

  My breath caught in my throat. The command hit my erogenous zones.

  “Very well, Mr. Black-Price. I’ll inform you of any necessary purchases.”

  He looked at me, gaze glinting brightly and capturing me as easily as ever. I loved his eyes and more than that, I loved being the center of his attention.

  “Two things. I’ll set up a card for you to use on whatever you’d like while you’re staying here. Also, you may call me Damian.”

  With that he left me in my bedroom. This time with a silly smile on my face.

  42

  I probably would’ve kept my silly smile for days if things had stayed the same.

  We lived together but I actually spent more time with him at the office than anywhere else. Beyond our shopping trip, Damian and I hadn’t shared another meal together.

  And although he’d stated the reason for my living in his place was to keep me on call for work, Damian promptly left me as soon as we hit the foyer.

  He went into his study and I wandered off into my suite. It was lonely. After being by his side for months, I found myself unable to shake off the melancholy this distance created.

  So much for my fired-up pep talk of just a few days ago.

  Then things really took a nosedive.

  Damian’s social life resumed in full force. Worse than the loneliness was seeing him dressed up and ready to take Gretchen for a night out. I knew exactly where he was going because I’d set up the reservations as part of my PA duties.

  It was the most despised part of my job.

  Perversely, I’d come out of my room and wait for him by the door. Like a pitiful dog wanting to go bye-bye too. No wonder I preferred cats. If only I could adopt the disinterested attitude of one.

  “Call me if you need anything, Risa,” he’d say, gaze watchful as if he waiting to see cracks form in my demeanor.

  “I’m sure I won’t need to, Sir,” I’d reply while opening the door for him. It was only after he was gone that I’d let the damned tears come while wandering the halls of his magnificent home.

  This wasn’t at all what I expected. I naively thought our forced proximity would spark something in Damian. Every day I prayed that this would be the one where he remembered me.

  Seven days of praying hadn’t yielded anything. I was beginning to doubt my faithfulness to a higher power. I’d already known I couldn’t count on a miracle. So I did what I did best—counted on my intellect, stubbornness, and abilities to win over my opponent.

  Who just happened to be the man I loved.

  Waking a full hour before Damian, I put on my armor every morning. Ridiculously-expensive, but oh-so-appealing suits and heels gave me a certain power I craved. In my quest to be unstoppable, everything about my appearance had to be perfect.

  Gone was the free, unbound hair. Instead, I scraped it back into a smooth ponytail. My makeup, understated but lovely, made me look like a grown-up version of the girl I remembered back when the hardest thing in my life was winning over a grouchy client.

  Then it was only my ego on the line.

  Now it was my life.

  Every morning I waited for Damian in the state-of-the-art kitchen, his coffee in hand (black), a fresh breakfast of fruit, toast, eggs, and bacon, along with his itinerary for the day. Damian had raised his brow the first time he’d come in and saw the meal on the kitchen island, but seemed pleased to eat my food—simple as it may have been.

  Naturally, I took that as a score on my side.

  We were typically in the car a half hour later, but only after Damian was assured I’d eaten. After the second day, I took to eating alongside with him so he could be satisfied. It was in those moments I saw another brief return of my Damian.

  He’d taken to stocking cranberry-grape juice without having to ask me. Once upon a time he knew it was my favorite. Damian was also very aware of how much I left on my plate. He made it clear neither of us would leave the table until I ate more.

  It apparently hadn’t escaped his attention I’d lost weight since leaving Switzerland. Being a hair under five feet meant it showed up immediately. And that was after I’d already lost ten while Damian was in a coma. All my clothes in Austin would’ve been too loose, at least everywhere but my ass. Thank God I hadn’t lost that.

  “Risa, you need to eat more. Here. Have some of my bacon.”

  Bacon truly did make everything better.

  I was sure it would drive another woman crazy or at the very at least cause her to accuse Damian of being controlling. Not me. I clung to the crumbs in the hopes it would lead me home.

  Our work started from the moment we left the penthouse. My phone blew up about as often as his did. The job was demanding, far more than anything I did in Sales, but I didn’t have time to worry about my performance. I just hit the ground running and did the best I could.

  The fact Damian had never employed a PA before was a blessing in disguise. He didn’t know my job any better than I did. We learned together. Spending each day with him gave me an appreciation for just how hard he worked to keep the machine oiled and all parts running smoothly.

  Truly, it was eye-opening.

  I had to admit I used to think the hard work was done solely by those in the trenches and the CEOs just sucked up all the glory and riches. Maybe it was true for some of them but not for my Damian.

  Practically every minute of his workday was accounted for. From sunup to hours past sundown, Damian attended meetings, read reports, went to business lunches, and held conference calls with offices all around the globe.

  It was a never-ending digital stream of e-mails, reports, studies, and projections. And not always in English.

  Damian’s linguistic prowess did unmentionable things to me. I already knew he could speak Russian, but I got to hear firsthand his fluency in French, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Spanish, Dutch, and Portuguese.

  My attraction for Damian went through the roof when I sat in on those meetings. The way he could roll his “Rs” was so damned sexy. Fascinated, I watched him communicate effortlessly from one language to the next with no awkward pauses as he struggled to make the mental connections.

  I knew Damian was intelligent, but seeing him in his true environment showed me a side of his brilliant mind I couldn’t even begin fathom. In regular circumstances, I would’ve been on my knees under his desk. That was how hot he made me.

  Big package, big brains, all on the body of an Adonis with a face to match—Damian Black-Price was truly a man to suffer for.

  Nothing ruffled his composure. Not a plant in Taiwan shutting down unexpectedly at the tune of a million dollars a day. Definitely not a conference room full of executives concerned that a portion of the overall portfolio failed to meet Q4 expectations.

  Damian simply fired off commands, all designed to solve the problems at hand and paving the way for an upswing in their collective fortunes. He never had to raise his voice nor did he ever show an ounce of impatience or frustration, even when things got heated.

  Not only that, but Damian managed to smooth over ruffled feathers with a dose of charm and he never cut anyone down. Even a couple of arrogant, obnoxious executives who I’d paper the walls with if I had two minutes alone with them.

  Frankly, I was in awe. Just who was this man and how ever did he originally find time for me?

  I imagined playing the role of IT Director was a vacation compared to the nonstop speed of his world. Everyone needed a piece of him. He couldn’t walk down the hall without being stopped for a word or a signature. Those were the moments I stepped up my game, deftly handling their requests and doing what I could to lighten Damian’s load.

  But honestly he didn’t need it.

  It was obvious Damian could never have handed the reins over to
someone else and rested on his laurels. He truly never stopped or lost energy.

  Most of the times I was amazed that this man had been in a coma only a few short months before. How was he able to keep up with the demands without feeling fatigue? I knew then retirement would impossible for someone of his stamina and drive.

  Nighttime should’ve signified the end of his day. A regular person would’ve passed out in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately for me, Damian’s social obligations were just beginning.

  And so was my hell.

  43

  His evening calendar was full with charity events. Bridgewater National’s charity work was socially-responsible and held not a whiff of self-interest in the form of obligatory tax breaks or good press. Damian oversaw the organizations personally. Education and rehabilitation were his primary targets.

  That wasn’t to say he didn’t make room for the other numerous charities vying for his attention. Apparently, every bigtime organization wanted Damian Black-Price as a feather in their collective caps. His generosity and attention to the missions were well-known.

  Understanding his evenings out with Gretchen were primarily work-based should’ve made things easier.

  It didn’t.

  After walking in on them in Switzerland, I definitely didn’t trust Gretchen and neither did I trust Damian to be immune to his ex-lover’s charms. Their evenings together were a chance to dress up, dine, socialize, and be entertained. Considering how beautiful Gretchen was in her daywear, I didn’t want to imagine how gorgeous she’d be in eveningwear.

  Yet, I had no choice but to imagine it as I set up her appointments at exclusive boutiques because, after all, the CEO’s girlfriend must be perfectly attired at all times.

  I arranged for the prerequisite flowers (lilies) to be sent to her luxury rental just a few blocks down the street. I also arranged for the obscenely expensive jewels to be given out on loan to wear around her slender neck, wrists, and earlobes.

  I didn’t allow any of my feelings to show as I went through the tasks. I did my job perfectly, removed from the situation as if it were happening to anyone else.

  But after he left I’d become human again. I’d spend the rest of the evening eaten up in jealousy. I was stuck here while she was there in my place and no one was the wiser.

  Sick with misery, I haunted the corridors of Damian’s penthouse as my imagination spiraled out of control. Did Gretchen stun him with her beautiful new dress? Did the emeralds emphasize the pale perfection of her skin? Was there sexual tension between them in the limo? Did Damian act on it?

  Never a gym rat before, I threw myself into exercise. Every mile I endured pushed the sinister thoughts away. It was only when my thigh muscles screamed in pain was I able to keep from doing the same.

  No wonder I was losing weight faster than I could gain it.

  Trapped in the penthouse, imprisoned by my fears, I’d look myself in the mirror and repeat over and over again, “Be strong, Risa. You can get through this. He still loves you even if he can’t remember you.”

  It became harder each night to say the words, but I didn’t quit. I wouldn’t quit.

  Exhausted, humbled, and haunted, what kept me going beyond my insane love for Damian?

  “Risa, I’m home.”

  I got up out of my chair, putting aside an unread book. Like everything in my current life, it was all for show. I turned to see him standing there just a few feet away, looking so beautiful in his overcoat and tux that I could cry.

  “Have you had a good evening, Risa?”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  He smiled faintly. I still didn’t use his first name that much, but he didn’t seem to mind the use of “Sir”. I used it often for his secret pleasure and mine.

  “Come with me then.”

  It was the moments after Damian arrived that kept me addicted to the crumbs of his affection. Following him down the hall to his study, I saw the pink bag in his hand and smiled.

  The ever-growing hope contained in that bag fueled me through the purgatory of being forgotten.

  44

  DAMIAN

  No doubt about it. I was a sadistic bastard.

  I went through the motions of confirming Gretchen was my girlfriend through numerous engagements and photo ops. I smiled often and kept her by my side with an arm slung around her little waist. No one watching would doubt Gretchen’s significance in my life.

  This both saved her and possibly put her in danger. We were both damned by the unknown. I wasn’t targeted in the attack that left me half-dead. I didn’t know much beyond that.

  My adopted father and guardian focused on the underground sources and connections for word on exactly what happened. My father hadn’t contacted me. My probable and reasonable assumption was Grigor went into deep hiding.

  Bolstered by Leon’s presence this meant I wouldn’t hear from him in a while. Possibly years.

  It was frustrating, infuriating, and if I gave into my rage I would’ve led the charge for a bloodbath. I had the money to buy all the weapons, information, and soldiers we needed. I could hide behind my power and position and still burn everything to the ground in a night.

  I couldn’t do it though. My father hadn’t sacrificed his oldest son and given him all the financial opportunities in the world for him to devolve into a goddamned criminal.

  “Damian, you must never be the hand that becomes dirty. This is not the life for you. Your power must come a different way. Honest.”

  I remained clean and untouched for my father. Solely for him and the mother who’d died clutching her stomach as if to keep me from slipping away like her.

  What to do with my impotent rage?

  Nothing.

  I continued to live my life as I always had. I increased my wealth. I forged new contracts and contacts. I socialized. I remained Damian Black-Price.

  In the darkest hours of the night, I couldn’t still my thoughts. I worried about the unknown variables. What would happen to the Konstantinovs? My father was getting on in years. His lust for power waned. Were they hanging by a thread as a result? How did my father’s enemies get so close to attack? Why had I gone to see him that night?

  The answers stayed locked in my mind.

  Despite the specialists’ many assurances for my future—I could read between the lines. There was a distinct possibility I would never recover those missing months.

  And without definite answers I couldn’t let Gretchen go back home. Not until we were completely sure my identity hadn’t been found out.

  Verification couldn’t come fast enough. It wasn’t fair to Gretchen to be mired in this mess, one she didn’t understand and never would.

  Elaine told me the story she’d been fed the morning before we left Switzerland. Coupled with my story, Gretchen was locked up tight. It didn’t matter that we’d effectively ended our relationship. I needed stability. My injury couldn’t take the stress of change. It made me sound coddled and weak.

  My pride notwithstanding, it made for a good cover. Gretchen didn’t ask questions about the security because her clientele were often very wealthy men who were always shadowed by bodyguards.

  Naturally, it made sense she’d be given the same treatment.

  And so we perfected the illusion of commitment. Beautiful Gretchen made a lovely foil against me with her blood-red hair, pale skin, and flawlessly dressed figure.

  Yet each minute of each night I counted the seconds when I could turn Gretchen over to Leon’s capable hands and return back home to where I knew Risa was waiting for me.

  Fatigue rolled off my back as soon as I crossed the threshold. Risa needed her sleep to keep up with me, yet, I demanded she join me in the study when I returned for the night. Ostensibly it was for notetaking, scheduling, sending thank you notes and appropriate, thoughtful gifts to the various connections I’d made throughout the night.

  All of it could’ve waited until the next day but I justified it as needing to
make a move while the information was still fresh in my mind. Risa initially remained in her professional clothes until I strongly suggested she appear before me in something more comfortable. For her.

  Naturally, I brought her a respectable assortment of robes, slippers, and flannel pajamas. I couldn’t be accused of impropriety if I kept her covered from neck to feet.

  It didn’t matter whether she was in her work clothes or a heavy velvet robe. I imagined her naked and spread out on my bed regardless of what she wore.

  The visions possessed and haunted me nightly. It didn’t matter how many times I jacked off in the shower. Risa sped through my mind in various states of sexual need and hunger.

  I could see her sucking me dry as I fucked her mouth the way I’d fuck her sweet, tight pussy. I saw her on her knees in the corner, hands tied at the wrist behind her back, in timeout because she’d been a naughty girl. I saw her on my lap, eating out of my hand.

  My imaginations, always perverse, took on a tender quality whenever these visions appeared. Even when I saw Risa bent over my lap, bottom rosy with color, and the soft hiccups of her tears echoing in my ears, I could feel intense affection for her.

  Strange and seductive. I’d never felt love for anyone before. Affection yes. Respect yes. But love?

  Absolutely not.

  With Risa it all seemed possible. I could see myself being the kind of man who could love a woman. I could see myself being devoted solely to her, entranced by her joy and her sorrow. I could imagine reshaping her for my curiosity and pleasure.

  Even if she didn’t want it.

  It was in that ruthlessness that I looked at myself and turned away from what I saw. I’d never had to coerce a woman for her company. Why would I consider it for Risa?

  Because you can’t have what you want.

  But she did want me.

  I could see it with every longing glance she gave when she thought I wasn’t looking. I could have Risa naked in my bed within the hour if I wished it. I could be a charming fellow when I wished it and I wished it if it meant I could have Risa.